


Second Chance at First Times

by hsophiec



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Derek, Kid Fic, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 17:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hsophiec/pseuds/hsophiec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything that happened in Beacon Hills, Stiles Stilinski opted for worldwide travel and a change of pace over university education. Having now returned to Beacon Hills, his father, and his friends, Stiles faces his decision and its consequences full-on, trying to decide his next move and apparently his life. But whilst he seems to be stuck in a rut, everyone else is carrying on around him and without him, including Derek Hale. Recently returned to Beacon Hills himself, Derek is battling his own demons and has joined the Sheriff's department as Deputy. Unwilling to forgive Derek for letting his Dad be kidnapped, Stiles resents Derek for his new-found happiness. Confused, lonely, but ever sardonic, Stiles wrestles with his decisions; when a helping hand is offered, will he take it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bringing It Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aylarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylarah/gifts).



> Set after season 3A, I've also ignored all teasers for 3B and written as though 3A was the last season.
> 
> The M rating is for potential M-rated chapters later in the story.

As autumn draws to a close it brings changes in the air, freezing each breath of wind before it blows, letting only the wateriest sunlight trickle earthwards. Little by little Beacon Hills reacts to its climate, the residents following the mood of their city. Month after month features this decline, layer upon layer worn to fend off the advancing frosts that are gradually replacing torrential rain. Forgetting the sudden change in temperature that accompanies long distance air travel, Stiles leaves the plane in shorts and a t-shirt, visibly shivering in the biting wind on the runway. Opening his backpack, he pulls out a hooded jumper, throwing himself into it and rapidly pulling up the hood against the wind. Shouldering the bag once more and shoving his hands deep into pockets, Stiles runs after the other passengers to reclaim his baggage before heading out into the arrivals bay in the terminal.

“Stiles!” A deep, warm voice reverberates around the tiny building, as Sheriff Stilinski practically shoulders his way through the other waiting families to reach his son.

"Dad!” Stiles yells back, dropping his bags unceremoniously on the floor and throwing his arms wide for the chest-crushing hug with which his father greets him. “Dad... Dad, it’s good to see you ‘n all, but I... I can’t breathe,” Stiles says as he flounders slightly under the onslaught of affection. Sheriff Stilinski sighs and tightly squeezes his son once more before finally letting go and holding him at arm’s length.

“It’s good to have you back, Stiles - for good this time, right?” He stares meaningfully at Stiles, who balks slightly under the sudden intensity and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugs, “Like you said, there’s only so much procrastination I can do before the real work starts. I’ve seen everything I want to see for now, so I figured I might as well come back. Guess you’re stuck with me until I find something new to do.” He smirks, “And besides, if I didn’t come back then who’d help you solve all the Beacon Hills mysteries? Wooooooo...” Stiles waves his fingers in his father’s face, doing his best impression of a Scooby Doo ghost.

“It’s not people in sheets that’re the problem here,” Sheriff says, looking at his son in exasperation, “But now you and Scott are back, I’m sure that’s about to change.”

“That was one time!” Stiles protests, “And you didn’t fall down that many stairs. You were fine!”

“Yeah, in the end,” Sheriff replies, smiling, “Come on, let’s get you home. I need to be back at the station this afternoon, so I’m not going to be back until later this evening. Think you’ll be ok waiting for our big reunion take out?” Picking up one of his son’s bags, he turns and makes his way to the end of the terminal.

“Dad, please. I can keep myself occupied until then,” Stiles grabs his backpack and the rest of the luggage, letting it drag slightly as he hurries to keep up with his father.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Sheriff mutters, smiling to himself, “It’s good to have you back, son.”

“Thanks, it’s good to be- why is it so cold?!” Stiles blanches in the doorway, attempting to curl in on himself, despite the bags he’s carrying, “Ah, I take it back; I like India too much!” he says, trying to turn back into the terminal before Sheriff grabs him by the scruff of his neck.

“Nice try. It’s your own fault for forgetting how the weather works here,” Sheriff says, taking up the bags he had dropped in order to catch his son, “Come on, the car’s not far away.”

Reluctantly Stiles follows him, fidgeting in an attempt to warm up. Spotting the car he runs towards it, hopping from foot to foot next to the boot whilst he waits for Sheriff to unlock it. Sheriff – whose hands are too full for keys – deliberately slows down.

“Dad, come on!” Stiles whines, continuing to look like a child desperate to pee.

“I can’t... I don’t... Oh, where did I put those keys?” Sheriff looks dramatically at Stiles, putting down the bags and patting his pockets with great exaggeration.

Stiles groans in frustration. “I swear, if you don’t find them in the next three seconds, so help me I will break into this car and joyride home,” he says, deadpan.

“Sure,” Sheriff raises his eyebrows, pulls out the keys, and unlocks the car. Sooner than he can pick up the remaining bags, Stiles puts his own into the boot and runs around to the passenger side. As Sheriff walks up to the car and adds his bags to the pile, Stiles throws himself bodily into his seat and curls into a ball in front of the heaters. The heaters are off, but he holds his hands out in anticipation. A few minutes later the car trundles out of the car park, Stiles continuing to shiver in shotgun but now with all the heaters pointed at his face.

“Better?” Sheriff asks as they come out of the airport and onto the highway.

“Defrosting,” Stiles replies, basking in the furnace before him.

“Well if you keep it up that high we’ll become a portable sauna,” Sheriff says, reaching over to dial down the intensity. Stiles bats his hand away.

“Delhi’s about thirty degrees hotter right now and I need to acclimatise,” he says, returning his hands to the heaters, “Anyway, I didn’t bring sweaters with me, so this’ll have to do until we get home. Then I can break open the winter wardrobe!” He smiles contentedly at the thought.

“So am I gonna hear about what you did at some point, or are you just gonna leave me in suspense forever?” Sheriff says, glancing over at his son. Stiles needs no further suggestion. His hands leave the heaters, gesticulating wildly as he relives the best tales from his months abroad, re-enacting every detail using every limb he possesses. Sheriff quickly remembers how to drive whilst sitting next to his son, the flailing contortionist.

“...so we were stuck on this ledge, way out over the sea, with only three toothpicks and monkey between us,” Stiles finishes excitedly, waving his hands around to emphasise the drop, pausing for dramatic effect and to catch his breath. Sheriff pulls the car into the driveway.

“And?” he says, turning off the engine, “How’d you get out?”

“That is a story for another time,” Stiles laughs as he fishes the keys out of the ignition and runs towards the house, “Sweaters, here I come!”

“Stiles!” Sheriff shouts, “Hey, come back! I need to lock the car!”


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Stiles takes little more than five minutes to unpack his bags. Never one for careful packing, he had assumed everything was dirty and shoved it all away indiscriminately. Now shaking this mass onto his bed, Stiles stands with hands on hips in a moment of indecision. Reaching down he gathers the entire ensemble in his arms and makes his way downstairs. Sheriff had left for work about an hour ago, but not before giving strict instructions to get started on the laundry. “You’ve been gone a while, Stiles, just think about the months of chores you’ve got to catch up on!” Sheriff had smirked before heading out the door, abandoning a gaping Stiles in the hallway.

Closing the door to the washing machine, Stiles stands and returns numerous soaps to their rightful places. He pauses before turning and leaning against the washing machine as it begins to shake and hum. Letting out a slow and measured breath, he slumps and lowers himself to the floor, head back against the machine. Closing his eyes and with eyebrows furrowed, he moves forward to rest his head in his hands.

His phone rings loudly, blasting out his favourite song from before India. Jerking out of his reverie and quickly shaking himself, Stiles reaches for the phone in his pocket, answering it to hear Scott yelling down the line at him.

“Stiles! Good to have you back, dude! Awh, I missed you so much, man, it was insane!” Scott sounds as enthusiastic as ever about his best friend, “You know I’m at the front door, right?”

“Ha, I figured you might be once I saw it was you on caller ID,” Stiles laughs, standing and jogging to the front door in bare feet and the pyjama bottoms he had slept in the night before. Pulling the door wide open, he finds Scott standing on the stoop, looking much the same as he had when Stiles left.

“Dude!” Scott yells, launching himself forward at the same time as Stiles, the two colliding in the middle of the porch. Stiles holds on tightly, crushing Scott with the weight of his back-logged emotions. “Woah, did you get bitten whilst you were away? I swear you’re stronger than you were,” Scott comments, muffled from within the folds of Stiles’ shirt and shoulder.

Stiles breaks away, holding Scott at arm’s length and beaming at him. Glancing over Scott’s shoulder, Stiles waves at the elderly man who had stopped and stared at the two boys as they embraced, “Morning, Mr. Gregory!” Stiles calls. The old man shakes his head, closes his letterbox, and starts up the path with his paper. Scott stifles a laugh as the two of them head inside.

They enter the kitchen and Stiles pulls down mugs and plates for breakfast. Flicking a switch to warm up the coffee in the jug he turns to the fridge, bringing out enough eggs, bacon, and sausages for a small army. “Awesome, I was hoping you’d have food for both of us,” Scott says, “I ran over here as soon as your Dad called to tell me you were back.”

“You ran? Dude, I know you’re a werewolf and everything, and I’m totally worth running for, but isn’t a bit early in the morning for that kind of thing?” Stiles shoots Scott a warning look as he unwraps the bacon and sausages, taking out trays for them to go in the oven, and pans for the eggs on the stove.

"Yeah, I guess so but most people are busy with breakfast and stuff right now. Running on all fours through the forest didn't seem like a big deal." Scott shrugs, nonplussed at the suggestion that the residents of Beacon Hills could have seen him pelting through the woods like an animal. "What about your car?" Stiles asks, "I thought you told me you'd bought one whilst I was in Kerala?"

Scott stares hungrily at the trays of food as Stiles moves them into the oven and begins cracking eggs into the pans on the stove. "Yeah, I do, but Mom's car just went in for servicing so I said she could borrow mine until hers came back. Stiles, I'm sure no-one saw me. There may've been some naturists wandering around enjoying the solitude of the woods at this time in the morning, but I'm pretty sure they were too busy looking for birds. They didn't see me."

Stiles snorts loudly, "Dude, are you sure you don't mean 'naturalists'?"

"No, naturists, the ones who go out bird watching and looking for plants and stuff," Scott says, frowning at Stiles as he continues snorting and trying to breathe through his nose at the same time. "Never mind, get on with the important stuff: how was India? Your emails were great, but I want to hear it from you in person."

"It was amazing. The vibe out there is completely different to what we have here. Physically I mean, they have so little, but everyone was kind and always offering to help, they were just so much less selfish than people seem here. They don't have much, but what they've got, they appreciate, " Stiles says, focusing on the eggs in front of him, "It really makes you think about how lucky we are here, you know? How much we take for granted and how lucky we are..." his voice fades away as he realises Scott is still drooling slightly over the thought of breakfast.

"I'm listening dude, go on," Scott says, hearing Stiles pause, but maintaining eye contact with the eggs on the hob, "Do you think it'll change you, you know, now that you're back?"

"I dunno, maybe," Stiles replies, continuing to poke at the eggs, distracted by the weight of his thoughts, "Do you think I did the right thing? Going away and leaving everything behind?"

"I think you did what was best for you then. I mean, it's not like things were going well for any of us at that point. Would I have done it? Probably not, but dude, even if we're super close, we're not the same person," Scott looks up from the food at the back of Stiles' head, "Why? Do you think you did the wrong thing?"

Stiles sighs, turning and facing his friend with a smile on his face, "I dunno. After school ended I couldn't face being around Beacon Hills any more. Too much happened to all of us and I felt like I had to get away from it," he pauses, gazing absently into the garden. The silence grows between them, but neither feels the need to break it. Comfortable and content in their own company, Stiles pours the coffee and carries two mugs to join his friend at the table. Shoulder to shoulder, joined at the hip, Scott and Stiles relax and sip their coffee as they wait for the sausages and bacon to cook. A few minutes the food in the oven is done, Stiles stands up to scramble the eggs.

Ending their silence, he says, "Well, fun as it is reliving this all with you, man, it’s no use to anyone right now: it's Eating Time!" he adds, pulling the pans of bacon and sausages out of the oven, followed by the eggs from the stove.

The two pile their plates high, collecting their mugs of coffee and heading into the living room. Moving the magazines from the coffee table in the centre of the room, they settle down on the floor with their food, cross-legged and side by side as though no time had passed between them. Stiles reaches across and over Scott for the remote, who instinctively holds his plate and coffee up to let Stiles past.

"By the way, I never asked, how's college going? Your emails made it sound fantastic," Stiles says, his earlier concerns forgotten, totally immersing himself once again in Scott's presence.

"Oh, man, it is awesome, but let's talk about it after Ren & Stimpy, yeah? I'm all for catching up and everything, but we've got all the time in the world for that, but the show 's only on for another twenty minutes," Scott grins at Stiles, his mouth full of food, "And I haven't seen this episode in forever."

Stiles grins in response and slaps Scott on the back, making him choke. After a brief interval of panic and hot coffee, the two seat themselves again and dive into their food in earnest, slipping back into old habits and each other's company with ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's clear to me now that there's not going to be a regular timetable for updating this. Sorry for any annoyance caused, but I'm just not disciplined or structured enough to have these chapters done by a deadline. All I can say is that I hope the next one's not too far away...


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles and Scott remain sitting in front of the TV for most of the morning. By lunchtime, deciding that it’s time to get out of the house and grab some food, the two of them head into the centre of town. Scott is keen to show Stiles everything that has changed since he’s been away, including the opening of at least 3 new street food vendors in the food court of the shopping mall. Stiles walks next to Scott, listening to his stories, smiling and laughing in all the right places.

“So which do you want to try first, dude?” Scott asks, “I mean, they’re all _amazing_ , but it’s up to you since it’ll be your first time. Hey, are you ok? Stiles?” Scott snaps his fingers in front of Stiles face, who had been staring at a lingerie shop on the other side of the court.

“Hmm?” Stiles mumbles, coming out of his reverie and turning back to face Scott, who leans to one side to see what Stiles had been staring at.

“You spaced out for a minute there, which I totally understand; I bet they have those pants in your size. They’d definitely suit you.” Scott smiles back at Stiles, who looks confused, before realising what Scott is referring to.

“Oh, uhh, yeah, well you know how I like to try new things,” he says off-handedly, hoping to distract Scott and bring the subject back round to food, “Sorry, I guess I must’ve zoned out for some reason. I think we should hit them all.”

“All of them?” Scott sounds a little incredulous.

“Scott, I’ve been away for almost a year. And the food in India is… Let’s just say it’s nothing like a falafel stand in a food court. I want to try each new place before we leave.”

“Makes sense,” Scott says, “But do we have to do it all in one go?”

“Of course not, this is going to require precision snacking – the best kind, as we both know,” Stiles rubs his hands, eyes narrowing in concentration, “We’ll grab one thing now and for every break we take from our aimless teenage loitering, we’ll come back here and try something new.” Stiles scans the food carts, looking for his first victim, “That one, over in the corner. The taco stand. We’ll start there.”

They head over and order a taco each, Stiles taking time to savour nothing as he eats the whole thing so fast, he appears to inhale it. Scott takes a little more time, but not much longer, werewolf metabolisms being what they are. The two continue to spend their afternoon as Stiles had predicted, aimlessly loitering in shops, not buying anything but wandering and talking in the still coolness of the mall. Every now and then they return to the food court, sampling something from each stall.

“So have you heard anything from the others?” Stiles asks Scott as they leave a Claire’s Accessories, “It’s been pretty silent from everyone except Lydia since I’ve been away.” Scott frowns as he considers his answer.

“Well, me and Allison, we’ve stayed friends. She’s at UCLA doing History, last I heard. We text each other a lot, but don’t really talk much. Isaac’s at Yale doing art. He really caught us off guard with that one. No-one was expecting it, but he’s actually really, really good. And he’s happy as well, which is great. Lydia, she’s doing Maths at Harvard. That one we were all expecting.”

Stiles laughs, “Yeah, I knew about that. She’s hoping to do something with Chemistry later, isn’t she? A joint honours or something?”

“As far as I know,” Scott shrugs, “As for everyone else, I think Aiden and Ethan fell out after everything that happened with Deucalion. Aiden’s a Marine now, so I feel sorry for whoever he’s fighting. Not sure what Ethan’s doing. I know he’s living with Danny and they’re both at Michigan. One of them’s doing Biology and the other’s doing Biochemistry, but I’ve no idea who’s who.”

Stiles nods, trying to place all this new information.

“I think that’s everyone,” Scott says, looking away from Stiles.

“No, it’s not,” Stiles says, staring at Scott, “There’s still Derek. Is that why you’re avoiding making eye contact with me right now?”

Scott stares resolutely at the floor and sighs before lifting his head to stare at Stiles, “Look, dude, I know you were mad at him over everything that happened with your Dad. If I was in your position and Jennifer had taken my Mom, I’d have cut Derek out of my life in a heartbeat.”

Stiles frowns, “That’s great and everything, but why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming up?”

“Because he’s really changed since he came back, at least that’s what your Dad told me,” Scott says, “He’s really trying to make up for everything that happened. And really, if we’re being honest, Derek didn’t do anything.”

Stiles splutters, “Uhh, I think he did. Or, well, he didn’t actively do anything to kidnap my Dad, but he was all over Jennifer. He was a second-hand kidnapper. Or an unsuspecting facilitator. And he didn’t even notice she was the Darach! I mean, come on, how much attention would that have required? Not much. Turns out all she needed to do was the damsel in distress routine, wave her jiggly bits in his face, and bam, he’s putty in her hands!”

“He fell for the damsel routine because he’s always trying to save everyone! Have you never noticed that before?”

“Well, yeah, but he’s never been particularly good at it,” Stiles snaps.

“And he should get points for trying,” Scott replies angrily, “Seriously, he’s really trying to turn his life around now. He’s moved back specifically to try and make up for everything he feels responsible for. Which is going to be pretty much everything, knowing Derek. And if your Dad can forgive Derek for what happened, then why can’t you?”

Stiles walks over to the balcony railings and sulks. After a few seconds, Scott joins him.

“It’s just not that easy,” Stiles says, “I’ve been blaming him for a year now. It’s not something I can just snap out of.”

Scott nods, “I get that, but dude, you have to try. You said it yourself: Derek tries to save everyone. If he’d known what Jennifer would do, he never would have done anything with her.”

Stiles sighs and leans his head in his hands.

“I bet that’s not the only thing you were annoyed about either,” Scott smiles as he elbows Stiles in the ribs.

Stiles smiles back, “Yeah, if I’d know that waving jiggly bits in his face was the way to go, I would’ve been the first to try it out,” he pauses, “But I don’t feel that way anymore. I’m not sure I could.”

Scott nods, “I get it, but just try and give him a chance, ok?”


End file.
